


i’d be so good to you

by cowardlyblvd



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Dorks, In the Heights References, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, boyf riends - Freeform, the bro duet refs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowardlyblvd/pseuds/cowardlyblvd
Summary: He really hopes this isn’t the end.





	i’d be so good to you

fuck. fuckin shit. why was he so dumb he knew, he knew jeremy was straight and yet he still told himself there was some chance for all those years and now? now? he was screwed. so, so screwed. he looked down at his phone again, fear pulsing in his chest, coating his throat and mouth with its foul taste in each beat.

  
@player.two: Typing...

  
still? how could he still be typing? one damn slip-up doesn’t take that long to respond to. better be a heathen of a paragraph.

  
@player.two: why?

  
that’s it? really? after what michael swears is 2 years of typing, 12 years of friendship, 6 years of pining, an accidental confession on his story that wasn’t deleted quick enough,

that’s all he gets?

  
@player.one: im sorry.

@player.two: but why?

@player.one: Typing...

  
why? there’s a lot of reasons why. the soft smell of fruity kids’ shampoo everytime michael gets in close proximity to him. the way his face tinges red when anything remotely embarrassing or sexual is said to him. the smirk he gets when he knows he’s won, whether it be a level on aotd or some silly argument. he could go on for ages about every single thing he loves about jeremy. and he kinda did in his confession.

he cursed at himself mentally for ever thinking joining a admin-centered page was ever a good idea, nor using it to rant sometimes to the sweet followers and other admins about his pining. his phone vibrating again in his hand snapped him out of it, and he glanced down, letting out a sigh.

  
@player.two: michael?

  
the use of his full name scared him, intimidated him and made him cower. jeremy rarely ever called him by it anymore, vouching instead for “mikey” and “micycle” if they were joking around.

  
@player.one: it was an accident.

@player.two: Typing...

@player.two: accident? so were you joking?

  
michael’s shaking fingers hesitated over the keyboard again, stifling anxious tears.

  
@player.one: no.

@player.two: accept my calls man

  
michael watched, as if on some sick cue, the screen morph into a picture of him and jeremy together, grinning widely; the text “Player Two <3” above it (when jeremy had noticed the heart one day, micheal assured him it was a ‘no homo’ heart. guess he can’t really say that now).

micheal stared at the screen for what must be the fifth call, waiting until the mario theme song he’d set for jeremy stopped ringing in his ears, and their chat appeared on-screen again.

  
@player.two: Typing...

@player.two: mike please

  
michael knew even if he picked up he’d become a mess and probably cry and then jeremy would feel bad when he told him he didn’t like him like that and then the school would have more whispers to say behind his back. michael, gay loser who forced himself on his best friend. michael, who doesn’t know how to be a somewhat functional human being. michael, who can’t even check which account he’s posting on until 10 minutes later when the whole fucking school’s already read it and screenshotted it.

The call appeared on-screen again, and michael just stared at the picture of his own grinning face, his arm wrapped around jeremy. shame welling up in him in the shape of tears. he couldn’t believe he’d told him like this, of all damn ways.

his phone started vibrating rapidly all of a sudden, and michael almost laughed as jeremy began spamming him.

@player.two: mike

@player.two: mikey

@player.two: micycle

@player.two: respond

@player.two: respiond

@player.two: if u dont respond in 2 secs im calling the police

@player.two: thot I stg respond or perish

@player.two: times up

@player.two: for serious man respond to the next call. please?? I just want to tell u this in person

@player.two: ish

Tell him what? Reject him? He didn’t think his best friend could be so cruel. The call screen appeared again, and he sighed, moving to ignore the call. His thumb accidentally dragged across the screen, though, and he gasped as he accepted the call, throwing his phone (on the bed, of course).

“michael? michael? shit, you finally answered. hello?” jeremy’s surprised voice streamed into the room, and michael stared at the phone like it was a giant cockroach coming for him.

“...michael is dead rn leave a message??” michael replied shakily after a few moments, trying to joke but coming out strained and quiet.

“...micha... are you okay?” jeremy’s worried tone carried across the speaker and into michael’s heart, making it clang happily around in his chest despite his raging anxiety.

“Want me to come over?” jeremy continued in a softer voice. “I can talk to you then?”

“You-you don’t have to, okay? I feel and look fucking terrible right now, so no.” michael snapped, cursing at himself mentally the second the words hiccuped out of his mouth. “j-just tell me whatever the hell it is. can’t be a-any worse, right.”

“michael, fuck it, i’m coming over. leave your front open, ok?” jeremy said in his rarely-used no questions asked voice, and the sound of a bed creaking, then rustling could be heard.

“n-no, jer, don-“

click.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, balls—

Michael sprinted toward the bathroom, sliding in on his socks and glaring at himself in the mirror before taking his glasses off and splashing water in his face, trying to rub the red away. After a minute of trying and failing, he shoved his glasses back on and ran back to his room, pulling out a lighter and throwing it haphazardly on his bed, trying to make it look like the redness was from weed.

knock, knock, knock, knock.

shit, fuck, he didn’t have time to smoke a quick blunt to finish his alibi. he jumped onto his bed, running his hands through his hair as the sound of the front door opening sounded, along with a call of his name. he didn’t respond, silently freaking out. maybe he should lock the door to his room, or hide under the bed, or go into the closet, or maybe—

“—michael? shit, are you alright? you look horrible. ”

michael jumped, making eye contact with jeremy before looking away, scooting back slightly.

“t-totally fine, dude. i always shake this much. you can go now.” michael replied, not meeting his worried gaze.

“you’re not okay.” jeremy replied, frowning deeply. “you never stutter. and you’re hiccuping. and your eyes are swollen...” he paused, then continued in a quieter voice. “is this my fault?”

michael was so shocked by the statement he looked up. “you’re kidding. why would this be your fault? it’s mine. I-i should have never said anything. i’m so stupid and I ruined our fucking friendship and I’m so sorry.” he got it all out in one breath.

jeremy was staring at him, surprised. “now you’re the one who’s kidding. this... would never ruin our friendship. besides, I came to tell you I-I really, um... get what you’re saying?”

michael paused and looked at him, curiosity taking over shame for just a moment. “...you do?”

“i-ive been- um- meaning to tell you for- a long time.” jeremy was the one embarrassed now, his freckles face turning red as he leaned against the doorframe for stability, looking away.

“...tell me... what?”

“do you, uh, remember that time we went tree climbing, a-and I fell off that really brittle branch and broke my femur?”

  
“yeah?”

“and you, um, jumped back down really fast and picked me up even though I was shaking and crying and cursing at you and shit?”

“mhm? why?”

“i- just- uh-“

“spit it out.” michael huffed, then quickly tacked on a kinder, “please?”

“no homo!” jeremy blurted, before quickly sputtering out, “but with your arms around me, it-it kinda made me realize that I-I, well, uh, really love you.”

michael froze, his brain unable to compute the words just spoken to him. that’s not right... jeremy should be disgusted, shoving him away and never talking to him again.

“—michael? hey? you okay?”

michael looked up at jeremy, his words slowly sinking in, syllable by syllable, before he got up, moving in one single motion to capture his cheeks in his palms and press a long-awaited kiss on his lips, and practically grinned when he felt jeremy kiss back. Their lips were in sync, pulling away for a quick steal of air, then more and more desperate contact.

“you’re a dork, y’know that?” michael murmured teasingly as he pulled away a tiny bit a minute or so later.

“when’d you know?” was all jeremy replied with, his eyes opening to watch michael’s puffy lips in a slight daze.

“‘member when your parents took us to broadway? and i was like, singin’ out that one song from in the heights on the way home? sunrise?”

“mmhm.”

“when you sang it with me.” michael smiled faintly at the memory, and jeremy smirked attractively (the only way michael could put it).

  
“well, how do you say ‘kiss me?’” jeremy whispered, leaning in closer. 

“bésame.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! 
> 
> Follow my Insta @cowardlyblvd!!
> 
> <3


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